


Speak, Evidence

by dogpoet



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Anthropomorphic, Crime Scenes, Evidence, Gen, object cathexis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-14 10:51:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogpoet/pseuds/dogpoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grissom hears a chorus of voices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speak, Evidence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fromward (from)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/from/gifts).



Arriving at the scene,  
he crouches beside the dead and says,  
“Who are you?”

And the dead answer. Their possessions answer. The floors and the streets and the walls answer.

Mustard points wordlessly at the bathroom.  
Thumbprints whisper identity.  
The glasses say it wasn’t suicide, as does the ring.  
The hoarse bullet, its voice spent, shows the etchings of its scars.  
Sand reports where the body’s been.

The wound describes the weapon.  
Dust confesses the shape of the shoe, the weight of the body, the height.  
Footprints in the desert, staccato, say: _Look behind you!_  
 _He’s your man_ , a bloom of fungus testifies.

They each have their style:  
Paint speaks slowly, deliberately.  
There’s the Russian novel of accelerant and burn;  
the dense poetry of fibers and epithelials, sheltered in the moon of a nail;  
insect voices gathering—embryo, larva, pupa, imago—unfolding beautifully  
in known time, the most reliable witnesses he’s ever seen;  
adenine, cytosine, guanine, thymine, their numbers uncountable, voices rising in chorus.

(Uracil breaks the rhythm.)

Sometimes he can’t trust his ears  
(the endless coding of heredity:  
ATGCGCAT),  
but he hears all the same:  
sing-song of the world in miniature, taunting,  
 _Catch me if you can!_  
The devil in the details, crying out in pain.

When no one else can hear their words,  
he listens, and he speaks for them.  
ATGC.  
He and the dead,  
they’re made of the same thing.


End file.
